


Word Vomit

by GrimmonsOwnsMyAss



Series: Meatball the Cat [2]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Trans Dick Simmons, Trans Male Character, accidental love confession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:34:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27687685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrimmonsOwnsMyAss/pseuds/GrimmonsOwnsMyAss
Summary: Simmons grins at his screen, briefly forgetting that Grif can't see him. He sees Sarge eyeing him while he's on his phone. and he knows he needs to end the personal call as soon as possible."Ugh thank you, Dex. I gotta go, though. Love you, bye!"Simmons hangs his phone up without waiting for Grif to respond, sending an apologetic smile to Sarge and getting back to work.He's halfway through his paperwork when he realizes what he said. "Oh, fuck," he whispers, starting to panic.
Relationships: Dexter Grif/Dick Simmons
Series: Meatball the Cat [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2024714
Comments: 12
Kudos: 56





	Word Vomit

**Author's Note:**

> I love this AU that I have accidentally created, so I'm building on it. 
> 
> Also, I headcanon Simmons as trans, but I'm nb (not a trans man), so if I get anything wrong let me know, please.

Simmons is having a decent day at his relatively new job. He's been at it for about two months now, and he's gotten pretty comfortable. His coworker, Donut, is certainly a character, and his boss Sarge is way better of an authority figure than his dad ever was, even though he's overly fond of guns and other weapons, especially his shotgun. Simmons doesn't think he's supposed to keep a gun in his office, but he's not going to be the one to tell him no.

Sarge asks him to stay a few hours late today. And it's after he's already agreed to stay that he realizes his mistake.

He calls Grif.

"What's up?" Grif answers easily. Simmons can hear him eating chips over the line. He wrinkles his nose at the sound. 

"I fucked up, and I need you to do something for me."

Grif snorts, "What did you get yourself into this time?"

Simmons sighs, shifting his phone, pressing the device between his cheek and shoulder to keep it in place. He starts back on his paperwork. "I forgot that I was supposed to pick up my T today, and I agreed to stay late."

Grif hums. "This is a lesson in not agreeing to do more work than necessary, Simmons." 

Simmons sighs. "Grif,  _ please _ can you pick up my T? I won't be off of work in time, and the pharmacy is closed tomorrow." 

Grif makes a loud noise of aggravation. It's followed by a sigh. A year ago, Simmons would have taken the reaction seriously, but he knows Grif too well at this point.

"I'll pick up food from that Thai place you like when I get off," he offers. 

Grif pauses, and Simmons can hear shuffling. "Yeah whatever, I'll get your man juice for you, but you better actually get the good stuff and not that vegetable bullshit you usually get."

Simmons grins at his screen, briefly forgetting that Grif can't see him. He sees Sarge eyeing him while he's on his phone. and he knows he needs to end the personal call as soon as possible.

"Ugh thank you, Dex. I gotta go, though. Love you, bye!"

Simmons hangs his phone up without waiting for Grif to respond, sending an apologetic smile to Sarge and getting back to work.

He's halfway through his paperwork when he realizes what he said. "Oh, fuck," he whispers, starting to panic.

He tries not to think about it, but the anxiety makes him shake in his seat.

_ Grif probably knows it was a slip-up _ . He tries to reason with himself. But another voice inside of him is more insistent.  _ You still meant it,  _ and  _ you said his first name _ . He groans internally, fighting the urge to bury his face in his hands. He doesn't want to risk anyone asking any questions. 

He's been at this job for as long as he's known that he's completely head over heels for his roommate. And they've been living together for years at this point, since college actually. The realization has only worsened the anxiety of starting a new career, but Grif has been a pillar of support. Without him, Simmons probably wouldn't even have this job. 

_ You can't fuck this up. _ He reminds himself as he picks up their Thai order from Grif’s favorite hole-in-the-wall place. They first discovered it in college when they were out on Grif's 21st birthday. They've bought from the place at least once a month since then, especially when Simmons needs to bribe him.

Walking back to the apartment, Simmons tries not to nervously swing the food too much. He's anxious, but Grif won't necessarily know unless he ruins the food. 

When he finally makes his way into the apartment, some trashy reality show is playing on the TV.

Grif doesn't seem to notice his entrance, which is unusual. The larger man is staring intently at the television, sitting on the couch. One of his hands is stroking the stubble on his cheeks and chin as if he's lost in thought.

"Is he not the father?" Simmons asks, finally getting Grif’s attention as he sets down the Thai food on the counter, taking off his jacket and hanging on the rack near the front door.

Grif seems to startle as he notices his arrival, and Simmons does his best to seem as calm and collected as possible. 

"Did you pick up my stuff?"

Grif pauses, eyes trained on Simmons for a tense moment before he nods stiffly. "Yeah. It's in your room, and we don't know if he's the father yet." Grif is unusually stoic tonight, and Simmons just  _ kno _ ws it's from what he said on the phone.

He half wishes he could take it back to save himself the trouble. The way Grif is reacting is sending his stomach into knots. He really hopes he didn't just fuck up his entire living situation.

"I'm gonna change out of my work clothes," Simmons says, heading to his room. "Feel free to dig in, but please save me some before you have seconds."

Simmons doesn't wait for a response before shutting himself in his room. He changes out of his work clothes fairly quickly, swapping his button-up dress shirt for a more comfortable tee and his slacks for sweatpants, but he pauses before leaving his room. He just...needs a moment to collect himself.

~~~

Grif is having a bit of a crisis.

Truth be told, the crisis started in college, when he first became roommates with the biggest nerd on the planet. At first, Grif didn't think much of Simmons, especially with how annoying he was (and still is). He nagged Grif all the time, telling him to clean up, saying he should eat better, basically being a general nuisance. 

But then one day, they were both out at a party one night, and some passing  _ Chad _ said something about Grif, something derogatory about his weight and "fuckability" as he put it. Simmons didn't even hesitate to fucking  _ deck  _ the guy right in the mouth. Granted, Simmons also had quite a few drinks in him, but that's what did it for Grif.

After that, they were best friends. Their dynamic didn't really change; they bickered all the time and probably would continue to for the rest of their lives. It's just how they are with each other.

And Grif knew he was in love with Simmons the night Grif brought Meatball, their cat, home. Rather than leave a plastered Grif alone out of annoyance (Grif certainly wouldn't have blamed him for it), Simmons stayed up with him and endured his drunk ramblings just to make him feel better, stroking his hair until he stopped crying.

As far as Simmons knows, Grif was too drunk to remember anything about that night, but admittedly, that was a lie. He didn't know how to process his emotions, still doesn't actually, but he was especially emotionally stunted back then.

And then he said  _ that _ over the phone. Did he mean it? Was it an accident? Grif usually didn't devote this much energy to another person, but then again, Simmons isn't just anyone, is he?

He's startled back into reality when Simmons emerges from his room, and Grif's heart does something funny. He just...looks so  _ soft _ . He's wearing sweatpants and a plain shirt, and he may be boney but Grif would do anything just to tuck Simmons into his side and spend the day with him there.

"You haven't started to eat yet?"

~~~

Grif seems to startle at the question as if realizing he normally would have gotten himself food at this point. 

Simmons can tell the look of casual boredom is forced.

"Didn't wanna get up," Grif says, but Simmons knows that for all his laziness, Grif always gets up for food, especially food he didn't have to pay for.

Simmons frowns. His stupid slip-up phone confession wouldn't have made things this weird, would it? 

He steels himself.  _ It's just Grif.  _ Simmons tells himself.  _ Grif’s your best friend. Even if it's awkward, Grif will still be here. He's not going to move out and ghost you just because you have feelings for him. He probably just feels awkward. _

He grabs one of Grif’s hands and gently tugs on it. 

"Come on, dude, food," he encourages softly. Thankfully, Grif doesn't fight him. He even turns off the TV to join Simmons at their pathetic little dining room table. 

They got it at a thrift store, and one of the legs is ever so slightly too short, so there's a book on the floor underneath it to keep it steady. 

The unfortunate thing about this is that the sudden lack of television providing background noise plunges them into a weird, tense silence.

Grif obnoxiously  _ slurps  _ noodles into his mouth, grinning at the look Simmons gives him. 

"That's disgusting," Simmons whines, grabbing a napkin and throwing it in his general direction. Grif just laughs. He just loves to antagonize Simmons, apparently.

"What's disgusting is using food to get me to do your bidding. Talk about manipulative, Dick."

Simmons rolls his eyes, gingerly placing food into his mouth like  _ someone who actually has table manners _ . "You've never complained before," Simmons argues, gesturing noncommittally. "You want me to stop buying you food?"

Grif narrows his eyes before loudly slurping more noodles into his mouth, maintaining eye contact with Simmons the entire time.

Grif continues to eat like a toddler with poor motor skills, getting sauce everywhere. From the mischief in his eyes, he's doing it on purpose, too.

Simmons finally has enough, grabbing a napkin with one hand and cupping Grif’s cheek with the other. He starts to aggressively wipe Grif's face for him. Grif just looks smug and bemused.

"You eat like a child," Simmons complains softly, grumbling under his breath. 

The weird tension is back, though, and Grif is looking at him with a really tense expression. Simmons' stomach starts to twist in on itself with nerves. 

"Hey," Grif starts, voice soft. "Can I do something stupid?" 

Simmons pauses, feeling frozen. Something about the words felt weighted. "When have I ever been able to stop you from doing something stupid?"

Grif smiles at that, and Simmons can't help but glance down at his mouth. He swallows thickly when he realizes that it probably didn't go unnoticed. 

Grif's hand cups his face before he's leaning in.

_ Oh _ .

Simmons lets his eyes fall shut, pressing closer as Grif kisses him. It's soft and slow, gentle, and Simmons' hand rests atop Grif’s, keeping his hand in place.

When Grif starts to pull away, Simmons would be embarrassed to admit how quickly he chased after him, pressing their lips together for a second time.

He can feel Grif grin into the kiss. 

"Shut up," he murmurs against the other man's mouth, unintentionally causing Grif's grin to widen.

"Make me," he challenges, and the kiss grows more intense. Grif’s tongue sweeps its way into Simmons' mouth, and Simmons groans deep in his throat as Grif’s free hand settles on the nape of his neck.

When they finally part, it's only centimeters that they separate, breathing hotly against each other, their foreheads touching.

The sound of wet chewing startles both of them, and they turn to find their cat, Meatball, helping himself to their food. 

"Meatball, that's people food!" Simmons scoops the cat up off the table and away from their food. The cat licks around his mouth smugly.

Grif starts laughing at Simmons' panicked tone of voice.

"He's probably fine, dude." 

"It's not good for him!"

Grif surveys the food. "It's probably not good for us, either."

Simmons rolls his eyes, placing Meatball on the floor and separating the food he got to from the untouched stuff. He's not exactly eager to eat after his cat. He's seen the places Meatball sticks his mouth.

When he finally looks back up, Grif has a tiny, satisfied smile on his face.

"What?" Simmons asks, raising an eyebrow

Grif just leans forward and pecks Simmons on the mouth, and Simmons flushes a bright red.

"Is that something we do now?" Simmons asks, voice cracking. He sounds disgustingly hopeful even to his own ears.

"I mean, if we both want to, I don't see why not." Grif's reply is easy, confident, but there's something in his eyes that betrays him. There's something insecure about the way he's looking at Simmons. 

Simmons can't help the smile building in his face, and as it grows, the insecurity seems to drain from Grif's face.

"So, boyfriends?" Simmons asks.

They both look like idiots, probably, smiling stupidly at each other. 

"Boyfriends," Grif says softly.

Grif kisses him again, and Simmons feels like he's floating. 

"Oh, and Simmons?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you, too."

  
  
  
  



End file.
